


This Is the Way It Ends

by PuddingTown



Category: IT (2019), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fix-It, Forreal tho this is just Reddie being slutty slutty gays, Happy Ending, Lost Love, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, STAN! (dr. scott! janet! rOCKy!), Shameless Smut, Stanley Uris Lives, Sub Richie Tozier, Top Richie Tozier, bossy bottom eddie honestly, that's right I said sub top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-02 01:24:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddingTown/pseuds/PuddingTown
Summary: An AU in which everything is the same, except Reddie disappear to have sex through most of the plot points and Eddie doesn't have to die to save the day.





	1. Chapter 1

“_Mike, you said you needed our help with something,” Bill said, his voice uneven. Richie's eyes darted to Eddie, surprised to find him staring back. “What was that?”_

Richie's hand shook as he poured himself a drink. He couldn't sleep, but who could blame him? Part of him wanted to find Mikey and punch his pretty old face. The other part wanted to hug him as tight as he could and never let go. He missed all of these losers, but he needed more than this aged bourbon to admit it.

“You're up,” a voice – as if he didn't know who it belonged to, as if he couldn't recognize it even with twenty-seven years of distance and time between them – said, drifting down from the staircase. Eddie stared at the bottle in Richie's hand, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Then- “Pour me one, would you? I can't sleep either.”

Happily obliging, Richie set out another shot glass for Eddie. He downed it quickly, nudging the glass forward for another.

“I thought about what you said,” Eddie mumbled, wiping the residue of liquor from his lips. Richie's breath caught.

_Pulling over on the kissing bridge, Richie felt his entire body pulsing. He hadn't felt this alive in years, and it was a shame he was only alive with terror. Fuck the clown; something more sinister was strangling him right here on this bridge, and he could see it in the corner of his eye. Attempting to breathe, he hit his steering wheel several times. His palm began to ache._

“_Rich?”_

“_FUCK!”_

_The tapping at his window startled him; he didn't think he could be any more scared, but he was certainly wrong. Eddie stood outside, bent over to be level with him, although he couldn't see through the tinted glass._

“_Richie, it's only me. Are you okay?” Eddie asked. In Richie's rear view mirror, he could see Eddie's door was wide open, and the headlights momentarily blinded him. Cracking open his door, he forgot to unbuckle himself before climbing out. “I don't think you should drive-”_

“_Eds, not for nothing, but-” Richie hesitated, seeing the familiar concern in Eddie's eyes. Even if nearly thirty years had aged him, that same thirteen-year-old twerp was just visible under the surface. “I can't do this. I can't let you do this. We should get the hell outta dodge- and whaddya say we go into hiding for a little while?” At this point, he was beginning to ramble. He didn't know where his words were taking him, and he fully expected Eddie to show mercy and stop him. “Mike's gonna keep calling- Hell, maybe even Bill, that persistent son of a bitch. But this is gonna end worse than one of his books! Stan's already-” Eddie's mercy didn't come, but Richie couldn't finish the sentence._

_For a long few minutes, both of them stood in silence._

“_I'm with you, Richie,” Eddie finally said. Richie didn't realize he was holding his breath until that moment. Sighing, he slumped against his car. “I don't wanna go-” Cutting himself off, he looked away. Richie couldn't deny his curiosity, but before he could ask, Eddie was speed-walking back to his car. “I'll see you at the hotel.”_

Chewing his bottom lip, Richie found waiting to be insufferable. Pouring another shot – his fourth since coming down – he drank as fast as he could serve it.

“Are you still in? Eddie, I don't wanna leave without you,” he said, the words tumbling from his mouth with no forethought. “I mean- I just got you back.” At this, Eddie's brow furrowed.

“We just got _them_ back too, huh?” he asked. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Richie felt a headache coming on, which he chose to remedy with more alcohol. Eddie copied him, reaching over the counter to grab the vodka. “I don't know if I can just leave.” Sighing, Richie almost touched Eddie, hesitating at the last second and pulling his hand back.

“We'll die, Eds-”

“We'll die either way!” he huffed. Again, silence settled over them. Richie tried to step around the counter, but instead slumped to the ground. “Richie!” Eddie didn't make it far either. The alcohol hit both of them as soon as they tried to move. Sitting behind the bar, Eddie rested his head lazily on Richie's shoulder. Tense, Richie stared at his hands, realizing he had no idea what to do with them. “I get what you were saying. At the restaurant.”

“What?”

“About throwing up when Mike called. I wrecked my car, but I felt fantastic,” Eddie admitted, his voice softer than it had been all night. Richie remembered this part of him; he was so stifled at home, but with the club, he could be whoever he wanted. “I didn't realize how much I missed you- all of you, I mean- until that call.” Although it stung to hear Eddie correct himself, as if solely missing Richie were a crime, he couldn't deny he felt the same.

“I missed you too,” he whispered. Then Eddie did something that made Richie's blood go cold, and perhaps not in a bad way... but it still frightened him.

Eddie slipped his hand in Richie's, lacing their fingers together.

“I left my wife when I came here. Threw my ring on the floor, told her she could keep the house, but she couldn't keep me. I know I didn't... say anything, at the restaurant, but that's not really lighthearted dinner conversation, is it?”

“Neither is a killer clown, Eds.”

Both of them laughed, but not as hard as they knew they could. Richie squeezed his hand, wordlessly pleading with him to continue. He could listen to Eddie all night.

“You remember my mom?” Eddie asked. Richie shuddered and nodded. He'd met plenty of bigger women who were knock-out gorgeous, but Sonia always seemed... slimy. She seemed like a horror that only Pennywise would put in front of him, but he couldn't recall why. “Put a blonde wig on her and you have my wife. I don't know why I married her; I-” Running his free hand through his hair, Eddie took a deep breath. Suddenly, it clicked for Richie. The power she had over Eddie was what scared him most. After they fought Pennywise the first time, Eddie went right back to his mother as if he wasn't the bravest soul in the group.

“I blame this fucking clown,” Richie said. Eddie looked up at him, his eyes large and frightened. “You were brave enough to leave her. Fuck going back. Mail her the divorce papers. If anything comes from this fucked up reunion, it'll be that you got your life back.” Their faces were mere inches apart. Richie could smell the vodka on Eddie's breath and the bourbon on his own. Somehow, this felt familiar.

“I'm afraid that'll change as soon as we leave Derry. I don't wanna forget you-”

“I don't wanna forget you either, Eds. And we won't forget- I swear, okay? I swear on my life. We'll leave together, go into hiding for a while – until the whole thing blows over. We don't owe this town shit. _You_ don't owe this town shit,” he insisted. Without thinking, he cupped Eddie's cheek in his palm. He didn't know how long they stared at each other, but he did know Eddie leaned in first.

Richie heard his heartbeat in his eardrums as their lips crashed together. He expected the first kiss to be awkward, as it usually was, having to adjust to someone else; learning the curves of their mouth and the urgency with which they kissed.

But Eddie didn't need time at all.

Richie knew exactly how to kiss him without a second thought. Tangling their fingers of both hands, he pinned them over Eddie's head as they slid to the floor. Nothing could be heard except the ticking of a clock, and the smacks of their lips.

He felt himself getting hard. The ache in his groin protested against the fabric of his boxers, and the constraint of his jeans. Fumbling for the zipper, he pushed them down, just off his hip. Eddie appeared to have the same idea, and Richie felt his erection grind against Eddie's, with only their underwear to separate them.

“Fuh-fuck,” Richie groaned into Eddie's mouth. Tilting his head, he kissed along Eddie's jaw, letting go of his hand to hold his face firmly. Leaving small bites, he brushed the tip of his nose against Eddie's stubble, freezing when he felt Eddie's hand dip between them. “Eds, I-” A sharp gasp escaped him.

Eddie bucked his hips up, their cocks brushing together in the tight space between their hips. His hand pushed their underwear down simultaneously, enough to reveal the pubic hair. Richie stole a glance, a pleasant shiver running up his spine at the sight of Eddie's tip. The head of his cock was a dark red, already shiny with pre-cum.

Desperate to busy his mouth, Richie kissed him roughly, moaning into his mouth as Eddie's hand wrapped around his cock. He held both of their erections in one hand, skillfully jerking them off together. Richie could hardly focus on kissing. Hell, he could hardly remember to breathe.

“Let me,” he demanded, his voice low. Pushing Eddie's hand away, he paused to revel in the feeling of their cocks squeezed together. Eddie's was roughly the same size, although not as thick. It was hotter than Richie expected, but then again, so was his own erection. The heat from his cock warmed his whole body, and with more effectiveness than the liquor. Eddie's pubic hair was coarse, and damp, and he distracted himself with the idea of nuzzling his nose into it, _after_ taking the length of his cock down his throat.

Richie's hand was slick with pre-cum; he could feel a tightening in his balls. Reaching down to squeeze Eddie's, he yelped when he felt a finger slide into his ass. Eddie turned his face to kiss him, and Richie groaned. Both of them came, the white, sticky fluid drowning Richie's hand and staining the end of Eddie's shirt. Lying on top of Eddie, Richie struggled to catch his breath. He wanted more; somehow, he knew Eddie did too.

However, a creak on the stairs made both of them freeze.

Neither of them moved.

A lighter clicked, and Richie swore he caught a whiff of a cigarette. Holding a finger to his lips, he peered over the counter. A flash of red hair disappeared out the door, and he breathed a sigh of relief. When he opened his eyes though, Eddie was already standing.

“I should go-”

“Eddie-”

“Goodnight Richie,” Eddie said firmly, disappearing up the stairs. Defeated, Richie tucked his cock away, zipping his jeans and ascending the stairs as soon as he heard Eddie's door close. He considered showering, but his eyelids were suddenly too heavy.

Once in his room, he plopped onto his bed, falling asleep before he could even get his shoes off. Richie held a pillow against his chest, and had he shared a bed with Eddie, perhaps he would've held him instead. In just a room over, Eddie lied in the same position, facing the wall Richie faced.

That wall was the only thing standing between them now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fix-it got more emotionally serious than I meant for it to. Whoopsies!

Naturally, all it would take for four free-willed adults to fight a demonic entity was a speech from someone who could hardly get through a sentence without stuttering. Richie gripped the steering wheel tightly; Eddie noticed his knuckles going white. Neither of them spoke as they followed Ben's car to the Barrens. At least not for the first five minutes of the ride.

“Fucking _Bill_, what was so great about Stuttering _fucking_ Bill that I'd stay and get my ass chewed by a demonic clown? Huh?” Richie glanced at Eddie, a crazed look in his eye. Beneath that though, Eddie could see the fear. He felt it too. Picking at a loose string on his jeans, he shrugged.

“There's more to remember. I know there is, I just... I can't. I don't know if I'm ready to turn my back on it yet,” Eddie whispered, just loud enough for Richie to hear. Although he didn't respond immediately, Eddie could sense Richie had plenty of thoughts about staying. After last night, he found himself desperate to remember _why_ he was so quick to gravitate to this man. There was something so familiar about his touch. His _taste_-

“How about this?” Richie finally said, disappointment and defeat weighing heavy in his tone. “We stay until it gets too dangerous. I, personally, think that's right now, but... we're here, so.” Eddie smiled, and almost reached out to place his hand over Richie's, but he thought better of it. Tucking his hands between his knees, he nodded in agreement.

Reaching the Barrens, Eddie suddenly remembered the first time their club met Ben. He was staggering through the stream, and all of them thought he was going to die. Eddie was afraid of their blood mixing; the AIDS crisis – “gay cancer” as his mother loved to call it – had barely reached his radar, but it still horrified him. He didn't understand why he was terrified, or why he didn't necessarily _have_ to be, but thinking about it now sent chills down his spine.

Following his friends, he glanced at Richie, surprised to see a pensive expression on his face.

“It should be around here somewhere,” Mike said, causing Ben to run ahead of them. He was the most eager to find their old clubhouse, and who could blame him? He built it.

Eddie nearly screamed when Ben fell into the hole that used to be their clubhouse. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears; no amount of muscle relaxer could ease him now. Reluctantly, he climbed down the rickety ladder, nervous with each step. The wood protested for all of them, but fortunately never gave. Looking around the musty, dust-coated room, he could almost feel the

_(spiders)_

bugs crawling on him.

Then a sinister voice drifted out from the shadows. Eddie's blood ran cold until Richie revealed himself, and he scowled.

“Are you gonna be like this the entire time we're home?” he demanded. The word choice wasn't lost on him. Home. Where the heart was. He wasn't thinking of his house. He didn't even think of his neighborhood. Home was the clubhouse. The moment they set foot in here, they were safe. Eddie remembered that now, as Richie mumbled to himself and looked around.

It didn't take them long to find Stan's token. All of them remembered how happy he was to be there, and how overjoyed it made him to contribute. He loved them all so much, and Eddie swallowed a lump in his throat, recalling just how much he loved Stan too. When Mike suggested they split up to find their tokens for the ritual, Eddie almost didn't hear him. It clicked a second too late, and he laughed incredulously, looking to Richie.

Neither of them were sold on this “ritual.” Mike showed them his stolen artifact, and the two compared notes on what they saw. While most of their vision was the same, Richie reported a little bit more. He saw _two_ monsters. One was Pennywise, the other was a turtle. Possibly. He didn't know for sure, but he swore that was what he saw. Eddie didn't know what to believe, but he strongly considered taking up Richie on his offer to bail. None of this could've actually been real. The dinner at the restaurant had to have been laced with something.

_Touching Richie was certainly real though._

Shaking the thought from his head, Eddie stopped as he reached Richie's car. The others had already driven off, leaving them alone.

“I wanna go back,” he said. Richie's shoulders slumped, and he looked down the steep hill they finished climbing.

“I really wish you'd mentioned that earlier,” he sighed. Of course, he didn't argue. Richie seemed to be on the same page as Eddie a lot; he didn't recall that being the norm. Except... maybe it was. He still couldn't remember everything clearly.

Reaching the clubhouse, Eddie jumped in, ignoring the ladder entirely. Part of him didn't trust it, but the other part simply didn't think. Leaping into the dark hole was something he would've done as a child. He couldn't confirm for himself, but rather, he could feel it in his old bones.

Or perhaps that feeling was the shock from impact. The hard ground turned his legs to jelly for a moment, and Richie snickered as he climbed down. Roaming through the clubhouse again, Richie shook out the hammock, tying it back into place. There were a couple small holes where moths had eaten through, but it didn't look too different.

“Oh, Richie, don't do that!” Eddie exclaimed, shining his flashlight on him. Richie lied in the hammock lazily, one foot on the ground to gently rock him. “For one thing, this whole structure is ready to collapse. For another, you're not exactly ninety pounds anymore.” Snorting, Richie pretended to wind up his middle finger, just like they did as children.

“If it was gonna break, it would've by now,” Richie said confidently. Pursing his lips, Eddie tried to think of an argument, but had nothing to counter with. “Join me. You used to fight me for this spot, remember? We shared it more than anyone else...” His voice trailed off, and after a long few seconds, he added, “This hammock basically belonged to me and you.”

“It did, didn't it?”

A small smile replaced Eddie's frown, and he searched for another of their makeshift seats. Grabbing a milk crate, he brought it over to Richie's side, sitting as close as he could. Neither of them made a sound, both men lost in the memory of how close they once were. Then, when Eddie least expected anything from Richie, he reached out to cup his face. Richie ran a thumb over Eddie's cheek, surprised at the light stubble. His little Eds was a man. Of course, shrimpy Trashmouth Tozier wasn't exactly a spring chicken either.

“I missed you,” Richie whispered, the words toppling from his mouth without much concern. Eddie's breath caught. He licked his lips, his eyes on Richie's. Ever since last night, he couldn't stop stealing glances at the curve of his mouth. He was so lost in thought, he hardly noticed Richie was still rubbing his cheek.

“Rich...”

Richie himself was distracted by his own fantasies. He thought about kissing Eddie's cheek, and how rough the skin would be against his lips. The mention of his mouth left him thinking of last night. They were needy. Greedy. Richie still wanted more. He felt the blood rushing to his cock, and he bit the inside of his cheek. The tension was like a rubber band wound around his finger; he was desperate for a touch. His only hope was for Eddie not to notic-

“Eds-” Richie hissed, his entire body tensing when Eddie felt the outline of his erection. It was obvious, straining against his pant leg.

“Don't- I-” Eddie stopped as soon as he started, however. Looking at Richie, searching his face for some sign this was unwanted, he finally whispered, “Tell me you don't want anything like this from me. Tell me you're disgusted, and I'll leave you alone. I can respect it if you don't-” Richie wouldn't let him finish though. Leaning over, he kissed Eddie hard on the mouth. He only missed by a centimeter, but the kiss would count regardless.

Eddie unbuttoned his jeans, yanking the zipper down. Leaning over him, he hesitated. Staring at Richie's exposed cock was different from merely touching it the way he had at the hotel. The skin was a little darker than the rest of his body; Eddie didn't know what he expected. Cupping Richie's balls, as if he were inspecting them, he froze when Richie groaned.

His head fell back, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped. Eddie leaned in, thinking he might kiss Richie's throat.

Instead, his lips wrapped around the head of Richie's cock.

“Eddie!” he gasped, his hand gripping Eddie's hair. Although he didn't know what he was doing, Eddie knew what _he_ would've wanted. He moved his mouth tentatively, waiting for the moment Richie told him to stop, because he was doing it _absolutely wrong_.

But the moment never came. Eddie tried to lower his head, but could only fit so much of Richie into his mouth before he gagged. Quickly coming up for air, he began to stroke Richie, opting instead to suck the swollen head. Richie's groin felt tight; he resisted the urge to buck his hips, amazed that Eddie would touch him at all.

He'd been with women before, and their hands were always smaller than his. Soft. Smooth. Nothing like Eddie's. His fingers were calloused and rough. He knew how hard to grip Richie and where to touch him, and Richie didn't have to say a word.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. The words died in his mouth, and a moan escaped instead. He came, faster than he did the first time he got a blowjob. Eddie's eyes widened, and he moved away a second too late. A thin rope of cum stretched, elongated, and broke off from his lip.

“Fuck, Eddie, I'm so-”

“The leper,” Eddie suddenly said. Richie frowned, tilting his head in confusion. Eddie didn't remember until he thought about the cum, falling from his mouth like excess drool.

_The leper leaned close to his face, a foul odor pluming from its' mouth._

“_Do you want a blowjob, Eddie?”_

Falling off the milk crate, Eddie scrambled away. Alarmed, Richie hurriedly tucked his cock back into his boxers, trying to fit the flaps of his jeans over it. The wood creaked loudly, crying against the movement. A loud snap echoed in the clubhouse, and Richie yelped.

He hit the floor with a hard _thud_, his jeans still unbuttoned. Immediately, Eddie forgot the leper. Instead of panicking, he was laughing, covering his mouth as he did so. Richie groaned, the top half of the hammock covering his eyes. Holding his stomach, Eddie tried to stop his cackling, but failed. Lamely holding out a hand for Richie to take, he helped him to his feet, watching him grumpily brush the dirt off.

“Thanks, Eds, that was super romantic,” Richie said dryly, finally buttoning his jeans. Eddie was only giggling now, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

“I'm sorry, I just- I know what my artifact is.” Eddie beamed, proud of himself. Meeting Richie's gaze, he couldn't help but stare. This man was a stranger on TV, but deep down, Eddie thought he could know him. There was a connection he couldn't explain, and now it made sense. Ready to leave, he headed towards the ladder, but Richie grabbed his wrist.

“We kissed before you moved. Do you remember that?” he asked. Freezing, Eddie racked his brains for the memory. He expected it to explode like all the other memories had, but nothing came. The taste of Richie's lips was familiar, the sensation took him _somewhere_...

But not where Richie wanted him to go.

Shaking his head, his stare became apologetic.

“I-”

“Are you gonna pretend you were too drunk to remember what happened? _Again?_” Richie questioned bitterly, looking at everything but Eddie. His mouth curved into a frown, and his brow furrowed. At once, the drive out of Derry came flooding back to him. Sonia threw a fit because he was hungover. He went out drinking with Richie, one last time. Somehow he knew he'd never see his friend again.

“By the time I sobered up, Ma had me a hundred miles away from this place,” Eddie scowled. Throwing an accusatory glance at Richie, he eased up only when he saw how hurt his best friend was. “I would've responded if you actually wrote to me.” And that much? That much was true.

Eddie was the only one who checked the mail when they lived in Queens. If Richie wrote to him, like he promised, they could've stayed in touch. Unless he abruptly moved away shortly afterward, Eddie didn't know what else to think.

Angrily, he began climbing out of the clubhouse. He made it roughly a yard away before Richie called his name.

“I couldn't do it!” he shouted. Eddie didn't turn around. All he could think about was where to go next. Keene's pharmacy. He could get his artifact and be one step closer to... going back. His shoulders slumped, and his fists uncurled. “I couldn't send letter after letter and wait while you forgot me. Not the way I could for Bill. Or Bev. Or Stan. You left one by one and it broke a piece of me every time, but I couldn't handle you going away-”

“You forgot too!” Eddie interrupted Richie, unable to take hearing him anymore. It didn't sound like Richie. He was too hurt. Too broken. “We kissed _here!_ We had the clubhouse to ourselves, and I kissed you because you remembered which pollen I was allergic too. You stole one of your mom's allergy pills for me.” The words hung over them like a fog. Richie thought about what he said, able to picture rummaging through Maggie's medicine cabinet.

“I wanted you to stay with me...”

“I have to get my artifact, Richie. You should too.”

Without another word, Eddie left. Richie stood alone in the woods, staring at his empty spot. His hands in his pockets, he began walking mindlessly. He let his feet carry him wherever they wanted to go. It wasn't until he reached the arcade that he realized they both acted on their feelings a long time ago.

They were just too afraid to admit it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie gets nailed (this time by Richie) and figures out how to kill Pennywise.

Richie didn't know which he hated more: reliving one of the worst moments of his life, or creating a new “worst moment.” He checked his pants at the hotel, genuinely wondering if he pissed himself. A twenty foot statue coming to life, and a zombified version of Eddie – or someone who looked _too much_ like Eddie – was more than enough for him. The danger skyrocketed off the charts, and he shut his eyes, praying for Eddie's safe return.

Ben was speaking to him from outside his hotel room. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Richie almost opened the door, but thought better of it. He couldn't risk staying here, and he couldn't risk Eddie staying either.

Grabbing a pen, Richie scratched through his picture on the funeral program. Writing on the back, he tried to tune Ben out.

_Eds,_

Richie paused after writing his name. Flipping the card over, he could still see his face through the ink. Biting his lip, he threw it aside and searched for another scrap of paper. Eddie would be scared enough, if all their walks down memory lane were as shitty as his.

_Eds,_

_I'm going to Bangor and catching the first flight out. I'll wait outside town for you, but I can't stay here. I know it's cowardly, but I am a coward. I'm afraid, but not of dying. You could die, Eddie. If something happened to the others, that's bad, but if something happened to you..._

_Eddie, we have a second chance. I don't wanna forget you again. Come with me. Leave your wife, take your life back... Start over with me. It's all I've ever wanted, and I can prove it if you let me._

_-Richie_

Reading over his note, he hesitated before going to the door. Yanking it open, he came face to face with Ben.

“Haystack, I hear you and you're a hundred percent right, but the Paul Bunyan statue just chased me out of the park and I need to masturbate for a little bit to calm down!” he blurted. Ben stood, dumbfounded, for a few seconds.

“O-oh. Yeah. Yeah, sure, I- my bad- Just... come down and talk to us later, okay?” he asked, his tone soft. Richie bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.

“Pinky swear, just please. Go. I need a shot of whiskey and a Victoria Secret catalog, thanks!” Shutting the door on Ben, Richie waited until he heard the footsteps grow distant. Giving him another minute, Richie crept from his room to Eddie's. Using his key on Eddie's door, knowing the town inn was too cheap to spring for actual individually secure locks, he paused when he looked in.

His feet carried him before he thought to move. Eddie's suitcase was open on his bed; it looked like the inside of a medicine cabinet. His clothes were underneath a pair of loafers, wrapped in wax paper. Chuckling, Richie looked around to see if Eddie left any other personal touches. The mini bar was missing a couple drinks, but other than that, he hadn't changed anything.

Swallowing thickly, Richie left the note on top of Eddie's belongings.

His plan was to hang out near the Welcome to Derry sign, and if Eddie didn't show up by midnight...

Richie didn't want to think of leaving without him. He was positive Eddie would show, but of course, the doubt lingered.

Scurrying out of the motel through a back exit, he swore under his breath at how much noise his car made when he started it. Richie inched out of the parking lot, hitting the gas as soon as he was on the main street. He managed to make a wrong turn twice before figuring out his escape route.

However, when he approached the synagogue, his car slowed to a crawl. Richie didn't realize he stopped until someone honked and angrily drove past him. Startled, he took a moment to collect himself before pulling in to the empty parking lot.

As he walked up the steps, and through the heavy double doors, Richie thought about the last time he came here.

Stan's bar mitzvah.

Richie played with the little hat he was given (Stan told him it was called a kippah), not knowing what it meant or what it was for. All he knew was Stan was celebrating becoming a man. Stan the man, officially. While Stan got ready, and the pews filled with people, Richie busied himself with whatever he could. He was bored out of his mind until Stan's speech, and when he _really_ listened, he could hear just how much he missed their friends.

“I missed them too,” Richie mumbled, kicking a piece of trash away from his foot. He sat in the same spot he chose that day, and closed his eyes. If he focused hard enough, he thought he could imagine what Stan grew up to look like. Handsome, probably. Neat. Proper. His smile wouldn't have changed at all, and even with Eddie in the running, Stan's smile was Richie's favorite. “Thanks for showing up, Stan.”

Placing his hand on the pew in front of him, aiming to stand up, Richie froze. A memory exploded in his mind; it had nothing to do with Stan or the synagogue, but it had everything to do with how he felt that day. Stan was desperate for his friends. For someone to understand.

The desperation and looming loneliness was all too familiar.

“_Bev stopped writing after a while. She forgot all about me until I said 'it's Eddie!' Don't...” Eddie's voice trailed off. His nose was turning red, as were his ears. Richie pulled him in for a hug, not caring who saw. “Don't forget, okay? It's just me, Ben, and Mike here now. We're gonna miss you.” Richie's grasp on Eddie tightened. Looking past him, he could see the Tozier family car all packed up._

_A “for sale” sign was planted in front of his childhood home, but the words were mostly blocked by a new, red sticker that said “sold.” It was the final nail in his coffin._

“_I won't forget you, Spaghetti Man. How could I forget the world's shrimpiest kid?” he joked. Eddie groaned, laughing as he pushed Richie away. “I'll write, I'll call... You won't get rid of me that easy. I promise.” He wanted so badly to kiss the top of Eddie's head. The thought of his carving in the Kissing Bridge weighed heavily on his mind. “H-hey Eds?”_

_If there was ever a time to tell him, it was now. It had to be now._

“_Yeah Richie?” Eddie pulled away, looking up at him with his large brown eyes._

_Richie choked, unable to make the words come out._

“_I'll miss you.”_

_Eddie smiled softly, nodding in agreement._

“_Me too.”_

A tear slid down Richie's cheek. Being humiliated, and banished from the arcade, was nothing compared to leaving Eddie in Derry. Of course, it still wasn't the worst moment of his life. He didn't even realize when it happened, and he thought, perhaps that's what made it so awful.

“_Hello?” Richie held the phone to his ear, expecting someone calling for his parents, or a telemarketer._

“_Richie?”_

_Frowning, he looked over his shoulder to see what his parents were doing. Wentworth was watching something on TV, while Maggie washed the dishes._

“_Yeah. Who's this?” he asked, somewhat suspicious. Eight months living in Chicago, and he still hadn't made any friends._

“_You don't recognize my voice?” the stranger asked. It was a light, sweet voice. It could've belonged to either a boy or girl, but Richie was guessing a boy._

“_Should I? Who is this?”_

“_You're not... expecting anyone to call?”_

“_Come on, this isn't funny! Who is this?” Richie demanded, growing impatient. He heard a sharp breath on the other end; whoever was calling seemed to be crying. Opening his mouth to speak, he couldn't get a single word out before the line disconnected. Hanging the phone back on its' hook, Richie shrugged. “Weirdo.”_

_He didn't think twice about it. He was an easily distracted fifteen-year-old kid; his memories of his old home were of friends that were all going their separate ways. Not once did the name “Eddie” cross his mind._

Wiping his eyes on his sleeves, Richie sniffed and left the synagogue. He sat in his car, thinking about everything and nothing. He couldn't leave Eddie again. Richie broke his promise once, but he'd be damned if it happened again.

Staring the car, he drove back to the library. A sense of purpose overwhelmed him; Richie couldn't explain it, but he relished the idea of being needed. There was a skip in his step as he walked into the library. He was feeling better, the same way he had when the group got together for dinner.

Of course, then he heard the struggling.

Frozen in the doorway, he saw someone on top of Mike. All of his senses were muted.

Although he had no idea who the man was, a voice in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind whispered, _“Bowers.”_

Reacting instinctively, Richie grabbed the closest object and swung. A loud crack echoed through the library, and Henry slumped onto the floor. Mike stared up at him, and Richie held out his hand. His knees were shaking, but it took him a second to catch on.

“Holy shit- are you okay?”

“Fine.” Richie didn't even know who was speaking to him. He heard them say Mike's name, but that was all. He couldn't focus when he was puking his guts out.

Bev rubbed his back, but her expression held more worry than reassurance. Something was happening, he could understand that much. Looking around at who else was present, he saw Eddie standing closer to the door. There was a large gauze on his cheek, and Richie's heart skipped a beat when he saw it.

“Wh-”

“Bill took off. He's going after It. _Alone_,” Ben said. He explained already to Mike, but Richie was too distracted to pay attention, so Ben gave him the condensed version. His eyes were trained on Eddie's cheek. While Ben, Bev, and Mike ran out of the library, Richie grabbed Eddie's wrist.

“What happened to _you_?” he asked, specifying he meant Eddie. If he was being entirely honest, he didn't give a shit about Bill. At least not for the moment. Licking his lips, wincing as he did so, Eddie motioned to the lifeless body.

“Bowers was in my room. He stabbed me-”

“In the _face_?!”

“No, Richie! This is a fashion statement!” Eddie's brow was furrowed, but quickly, his expression softened when he saw how panicked Richie truly was. Richie's hand slid down Eddie's wrist, his thumb running over Eddie's palm.

“It's too dangerous, Eds. This is where we get off,” Richie whispered. Eddie's breath caught in his throat. Looking out at their friends, knowing they were waiting, he sighed. “Fuck Bill, fuck his dead brother-” Immediately, he heard the ghost of those words from his younger self. He'd said some variation of them before, but he couldn't remember the context.

“You're right...” Eddie said.

The doors flew open, and Mike ran back in.

“Guys, we _have_ to go, now-”

“No, Mike,” Richie said firmly. He stood between Eddie and Mike protectively, as if their friends were suddenly the enemies.

“Guys, you- we can't-”

“I'm sorry, Mike,” Eddie whispered. Grabbing Richie's hand, Eddie led him out. Giving Ben and Bev the same apologetic stare, he climbed into Richie's car. Turning to look back at his friends, Richie opened his mouth to speak, but found he had nothing to say. Shrugging lamely, his hands falling at his sides, he joined Eddie.

Starting the car, he drove off, watching his friends get smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror.

* * *

Neither Richie, nor Eddie, said a word as he drove. Again, he slowed as they passed the synagogue, and both of them stared at the old building. He could feel Eddie watching him, but he didn't comment. Instead, he left the silence open for Eddie to fill.

Which didn't take long for him to do.

“Why did you go to the library?” he asked. Out of all the questions that came to mind, Richie didn't consider that one. Fumbling over his answer, he stole a quick glance at Eddie. His stare was determined, and for a split second, he saw the feisty little kid he grew up with. “I'm serious, Richie, why did you-”

“I thought about Stan, okay?” Richie blurted, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Eddie didn't speak. “I passed the stupid- … I thought about him, and I couldn't _not_ go. It felt like something was pulling me there, and I was down to help, but-” Cutting himself off, he stopped at the intersection. He could see the inn from where he sat. All they needed was to check out, and they could kiss Derry goodbye.

“But what?” Eddie's voice was softer now. Quieter.

“I saw what happened to you. I want this to be the worst injury you get, okay? You're not dying on me,” he said. Parking the car, he cut the engine. Sitting still, he stared ahead for a few seconds. He thought he'd have more to say, but he was too preoccupied with leaving. If his friends wanted to die for this shitty town, so be it. Guilt nagged him, but he tried to force it away.

“I got your note,” Eddie said suddenly, yanking Richie from his tangled thoughts.

“What?” Richie's head whipped around so fast, a pain shot through his neck. Wincing, he placed a hand over the spot that ached. Eddie hesitated, but reached out to rest his hand on top of Richie's.

“I got your note. I was gonna meet you. It's important to me that you know that; I don't wanna forget, or pretend like it didn't happen,” Eddie explained. The words went through one ear, and drifted out of the other. It took everything in Richie's brain to hang on to them.

“Wh-”

“Richie, I love you.”

The words hung over them, filling the silence and all the space between them. Richie thought he was being pushed closer to Eddie. Of course, he didn't mind at all.

“Eddie...” Leaning in, he held Eddie's head in his hands as he kissed him. It was hard, at first. Urgent. Richie worried he might've missed. Then he felt Eddie's tongue. He didn't realize he was pushing his body so close to Eddie's until they hit the door. He felt the center console on his stomach, and he pulled away only to laugh. “I've wanted to do that since we were kids.” A small smile stretched across Eddie's face, and he slipped his hand into Richie's. "I love you too, by the way."

Their hard, calloused skin felt so much different from the innocent scrapes and scratches of their childhood.

“Then keep kissing me,” Eddie said. He opened the door to the car, and stepped out, with Richie quickly following.

They barely made it up the stairs before Richie was kissing Eddie again. Skipping over Eddie's room, and the mess that remained inside, he impatiently rummaged his pockets for his key. Once inside, he kicked the door shut behind them, and pinned Eddie down on the bed. He worked fast yanking off his belt, while Richie threw his jacket and shirt on the floor, leaning down to kiss Eddie again.

“I've waited too long for this,” he whispered. Eddie reached for Richie's belt, unzipping his jeans and reaching in to stroke his growing erection.

“I'm done waiting,” he replied. Richie's boxers fell down his pale thighs, and he lied his body against Eddie's. He held their cocks in his hand, stroking them together. Eddie leaned his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he moaned. Kissing his throat, Richie took his hands off, gripping the bed sheets as he felt a tightening in his groin. The release was coming fast, but he wanted to save it. “We need lube.” Eddie nibbled on his earlobe as he whispered, and Richie huffed.

“I don't have any-”

“I do, it's in my suitcase,” Eddie interrupted. Richie stopped kissing him then, staring down in confusion. Rolling his eyes, annoyance now on his face, Eddie explained, “I mean, it's lotion, but guys... use that, right?” His expression became pensive, and Richie hurriedly kissed him to prevent Eddie from getting lost in thought.

“Don't overthink it. Lotion works fine-”

“Wait, who's gonna be the one on top?”

Groaning, Richie kissed him again. He gently caressed Eddie's balls, keeping them both aroused. Pressing his forehead against Eddie's, he looked into his eyes.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, Eds? If it's too fast, I get it. We can hold off-” Before Richie could finish, however, Eddie grabbed his face and kissed him. When they broke apart, he nodded. “Let's get that lotion.” Yanking Eddie off the bed, he led him back to the door.

“We can't just go out there naked!” His free hand held his cock, hiding it from sight. Richie copied him, shrugging.

“There's no one else here and your room is across the hall. Just hurry,” he said. Eddie protested, but Richie already opened the door. Scurrying across the deserted hall, Eddie rushed to shut the door to his room. He yelped when Richie pulled him down on the bed, unable to stop the laugh that also escaped his lips.

Pushing Eddie's suitcase off the bed, he snicked at the way Eddie's face scrunched. Kissing him, Richie flipped them over so he was on top. The bottle of lotion was in his hands, and he squeezed out a generous amount for one of them to use. Straddling Eddie, Richie suddenly paused. He didn't know where to go from here.

“Richie?”

“Yeah?”

He sounded breathless, and Eddie's cock twitched in response.

“I'll be on bottom.” His hand caressed Richie's cheek, gliding down his neck.

“Whatever you want.” Kissing Eddie, he applied the lotion. Pre-cum leaked from the tip of his cock; he waited years for this and never knew. All the other sexual encounters before Eddie were forgotten. This was the first time that mattered, and it was going to be his _last_ first time, because there would be no one else after Eddie.

“Careful, Rich...” he whispered as Richie slowly worked his way inside. He fell out twice, and although he worried he was doing something wrong, Eddie assured him to keep going. Adding more lotion, this time to Eddie's hole as well, Richie kissed him hard.

“I love you, Eddie,” he said. His cock slid in, but not without patience. Neither of them moved once he was completely inside Eddie. For a second time today, his knees felt like jelly. “I love you.” Holding Richie's face, Eddie kissed him again, their lips lingering on each other.

“I love you too, Richie,” he sighed contently. “It wouldn't kill me if you moved.” He offered a small, playful smile, and Richie obeyed. Burying his face in Eddie's neck, he groaned at the friction around his cock. He moved slowly at first, but then picked up a steadier rhythm. Sucking on Eddie's neck, he froze when he felt a tighter squeeze.

“Fuck! Fuck, Eddie-!” Richie gasped, pinning Eddie down by his shoulders. Leaning over him, Richie stared down at him in wonder. “What did you just do?” His brow furrowed in confusion, Eddie shrugged.

“I- I don't know! I flexed my uh- my um-” Looking up at Richie, desperately hoping he'd understand, Eddie held up his hands in surrender. Richie couldn't stop himself from laughing. “What's so fucking funny?!”

“Don't- no, it's not at you,” Richie assured him. Petting Eddie's hair back, he kissed his temple firmly. “It felt amazing; do it again.”

“Why don't you make me?” Eddie demanded, rolling over to be on top. His hands slipped into Richie's, their fingers interlacing. Kissing him, he rocked his hips, unsure of how else to move. With the first motion though, he stiffened. Then, his entire body shuddered.

“Eds, you okay-”

“Perfect, just don't stop moving,” he demanded. Hunching over to kiss him again, Eddie continued to roll his hips. Richie, only wanting to do as he was told to satisfy Eddie, began to thrust. An image of his mother's old Jazzercise videos came to mind, and he laughed. “What?”

“Nothing, I just...” Richie's voice trailed off, and he smiled softly up at Eddie. “Every shitty thing I've felt since coming back was all worth it. I've wanted you my whole life.” Cradling Richie's face, Eddie kissed his forehead.

“Me too,” he whispered.

Richie reached down to touch Eddie, stroking his cock to match the pace of his thrusts. Eddie threw his head back and laughed; he never looked more free. The rise and fall of his chest, the way his hands would squeeze Richie's thighs... all of it felt like missing pieces of the puzzle. This was what pulled them back to Derry. They were meant to be together, and share this freedom. This moment was _essential_.

“Richie, I'm-”

“Go ahead, baby,” Richie instructed. Eddie was gripping his thighs tighter, and Richie could feel himself nearing the edge. “Where should I-”

“Not inside,” Eddie breathed, moaning when Richie changed from a quick pace to slow, powerful bucking. “Rich- Richie, I-” He couldn't finish whatever he aimed to say. Richie's eyes widened as he watched Eddie cum. The thin strings of white splashed across his pale, hairy stomach.

His body was certainly pushing forty, but inside? He felt like a teenager again. The tightening in his balls reached a peak, and like a coil wound too tight, he burst. In a flash too quick to hold on to, he saw everything he never wanted to forget again.

Eddie tugging him into the photo booth, staring up at him with love and want in his eyes.

Buying each other ice creams, when they would do no such thing with their other friends, because this was _theirs_.

Carving their initials into the Kissing Bridge, because he couldn't contain how much he loved Eddie Kaspbrak in his thirteen-year-old body.

Pulling out of Eddie at the last second, he came. Richie's breathing was labored, his heart beating rapidly. Lying with his cheek pressed against Richie's chest, Eddie chuckled.

“How did we wait so long for that?” he asked. Running his fingers down Eddie's back, Richie shook his head.

“I-” He wanted to say something. Anything. But his throat closed. His eyes were burning, and even though he laughed, tears were sliding down his face. Eddie sat up at once, alarmed to see Richie crying. He pulled off his glasses, thumbing away the tears, but Richie waved his hands away. “I'm fine. I'm fine, I just...” Staring up at Eddie, his head blasted from behind by the hotel lights, Richie forgot how to speak. Eddie was just so beautiful.

Instead, he reached out to touch Eddie's neck. Taking Richie's hand, Eddie kissed his palm, his lips ghosting over his fingertips.

“Alright, Richie. Me too,” he whispered. Lying at his side, Eddie used the sheets to wipe them off, while Richie cleaned his glasses with the pillowcase.

For a while, they lied in silence. Richie brushed his fingertips up and down Eddie's arm, and Eddie would steal small kisses to Richie's jaw. He stared at Richie's cock for a few minutes, watching it slowly soften.

Watching it get... smaller-

“I know a better way to kill It,” Eddie blurted, suddenly sitting up. Richie's eyes shot open. Panicked, he grabbed Eddie's hand, but he was already trying to climb out of bed. “Richie, I'm serious! I beat It today! At Keene's! I- We have to-” Stopping himself, he rushed to his pile of clothes on the floor. Fishing out his inhaler, he held it up for Richie to see. “The ritual won't work without our tokens.”

“If it was gonna work at all, Eds-”

“Richie, please!” The desperation of his plea forced Richie to look away. Fear overwhelmed him; he didn't know if he could go down to those sewers again. He remembered the first time, when the clown threw up all over Eddie. His friends were down there now...

“We have to swear to each other, right now, we won't die,” Richie said. Eddie offered him a small smile, nodding as he reached for his clothes. Richie wasn't satisfied though. “I mean it, Eds. I just got you back.” The two stared at each other, neither of them saying a word.

Finally, Eddie kissed him. This kiss felt different; it felt like a vow.

When they broke apart, Richie sighed and grabbed his shirt.

“Alright. Let's kill this fucking clown.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately there are no sexi times in this chapter. There could've been an orgy, but in no way do I want room for allusion to THAT SCENE in this fic.

The dilapidated house on Neibolt hadn't changed in nearly thirty years. As Richie parked across the street, Eddie almost asked why no one bothered to tear the place down. He knew well enough; Derry was under a spell, and the evil wouldn't go away until _they_ did something. Taking a breath, he climbed out of the car and followed Richie towards the dark, ominous structure.

“Wait,” he said, pausing on the lawn. Richie stood on the porch steps, glancing at him nervously. Neither of them wanted to go down to the sewers, but then again, no one did when they were kids. Eddie twisted the ring on his finger. His wedding ring. He always hated this ring; he would take it off whenever he went to the gym, and not because he cared about it getting ruined. Swallowing thickly, he threw the ring into the tall grass. Looking up at Richie, he attempted to smile. “You ready?” Taking Eddie's hand, running a thumb over his knuckles, he grinned.

“As ready as I'll ever be,” he answered.

Together, they walked through the house. Cobwebs and trash were still scattered across the foyer and living room. Eddie stumbled several times, jumping out of terror. There was glass littering one room, and knife stuck in the floor of the kitchen. Richie paused for a moment, knowing exactly where that spot was. Pennywise stood there when they were kids, and he'd gotten to that precise place before Beverly stopped him.

Although they didn't want to go, Richie and Eddie reached the well within a couple minutes. Their feet carried them while their minds wandered, protecting them until the last possible second.

“Are you sure you're ready?” Richie asked, his voice soft as he cupped Eddie's cheek.

Kissing his palm, Eddie laughed and said, “Not at all.”

Climbing down the well, the pair followed what little trail was left by their friends. Both of them prepared for the worst; it was entirely possible their friends were all dead. Eddie didn't know if he would be able to stand the guilt – neither did Richie – but what scared them more, was the idea of not making it out themselves. It was always a possibility, but if their friends were dead, it was a certainty.

Then, just when their hopes were almost completely drained, they heard it.

Chanting.

“Turn dark to light! Turn dark to light!”

Everyone was speaking in unison. It took a minute for Eddie and Richie to get close enough to hear them, and make out what they were saying. Rushing to join them, Eddie threw his inhaler into the fire, followed by Richie's game token. Mike's eyes widened when he saw them, but he didn't stop chanting. The group eased them into their circle, and much to their horror, they saw what difference Eddie and Richie made.

Now, the circle was complete. Three orbs entered their line of sight, and with those orbs came a horrid sinking in their stomachs. Their skin went cold, their hands clammy.

“Turn dark to light!” Eddie chanted, looking over at Richie. He squeezed his hand reassuringly, repeating the words his friends were saying.

It was supposed to work.

Mike sounded so sure...

_He lied to you all!_

Pennywise cackled, its' voice echoed in the caves, and every step shook the ground. Richie heard what It said, and quickly grabbed Eddie's hand. He glared at Mike, but seeing the look on his face made the irritation fade. He needed them to believe, otherwise they wouldn't make it out alive.

And that was a risk Richie couldn't take.

One of the sharp legs came straight at them. Richie yanked Eddie along, running away with him. If he had more of a clear head, he would've made some sort of joke. Instead, he was fleeing in a desperate attempt to keep Eddie alive.

“Bev- and Ben- Mike!” Eddie gasped, slowing to a stop once they were far enough. Pennywise still tried to reach them, and the talons were getting closer. Richie froze, staring at the doors in front of them.

_ **Not Scary At All** _

_ **Scary** _

_ **Very Scary** _

“He's fucking with us- we have to- we have to go through very scary!” Richie shouted, tugging on Eddie's arm. Hesitating, Eddie bit his lip before pulling the door open. At first, he didn't think it was too bad.

Then the legs started walking out to them.

“_How do you amputate a __**waist**__?!”_

Eddie heard the echo of his childlike voice. He remembered talking about amputation when they met Ben. All of them genuinely thought he would die from his injuries. Eddie was afraid of getting blood on him; his childish mind only understood so much about AIDS, but he could grasp that blood was where he could get it.

He didn't understand why he was at risk for it. He didn't understand the gravity of anything he was feeling that summer.

Of course, he did suddenly understand that this door was leading to a closet.

Scowling, he slammed it shut.

“We fucking get it, we're fucking gay!” Eddie screamed, whirling around to face Pennywise. The clawing stopped for a moment, only to return at a significantly more rapid pace. A few chunks of rock fell from above. Gulping, Richie hurriedly opened the door marked, “Not Scary At All.” A tiny Pomeranian stared up at them, wagging its' tail. Huffing out a laugh, Eddie elbowed Richie. “Make it- make it sit.” His brow was furrowed, but his eyes were pleading. Richie _was_ the one who joked about a puppy being the true form of Pennywise.

Huffing, Richie grimaced before mumbling, “Sit?” The Pomeranian wagged her tail and did what Richie commanded. “Huh... it's... pretty well trained.” Nodding, although hesitantly, Eddie's hand slid from Richie's forearm to his hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but then the dog transformed, roaring as the misshaped body began lunging for them.

Slamming the door, Eddie breathed heavily, yanking Richie’s hand as he ran through the last door left.

“Next time, we’re just going with scary!” he shouted. Choking, Richie stumbled — it was all he could do to keep from falling over.

“_Next time?!_”

Eddie ignored him, leading them back around to where they were first separated. Pennywise wasn’t behind them, as far as he could tell. The monster stood on the opposite side of the cave, digging at whomever was over there. Catching sight of Beverly and Ben, Eddie sprinted to them. Bill ran up at their side, meeting them all halfway. Before he could say anything, Beverly handed him a spear. It was rusted, and Eddie realized he’d seen it before. She saved them with this, when he broke his arm.

“You can’t be empty-handed, Eddie. Take it. It kills monsters, if you believe it does,” she said. Gripping the spear, Eddie nodded.

“That’s what we came to tell you. We can beat It, if we believe we can. I beat it earlier; I wasn’t afraid and it couldn’t do anything to me—”

“MIKE!”

Bill cried out for their missing friend, and Eddie froze. The group looked over, seeing Mike in the direct line of Pennywise. Without thinking, Richie picked up a rock, running out of the tunnel.

“Hey! You wanna play truth or dare?” he hollered, throwing the rock at Pennywise. The clown snarled, and Mike took the chance to escape. “Here’s the truth: you’re a sloppy bitch!” Picking up another rock, he readied his arm to throw. “Yippee ki-yay, motherfu-”

The deadlights blinded him. Richie felt himself fling backwards, but much to his alarm, he could see his body didn’t move an inch.

_He could _ _ **see** _ _ his own body!_

His friends were all frozen, or at least he thought they were. Their movements were a million times slower; he almost didn’t notice, until he saw Beverly blink.

“_You can’t save them. You can’t do anything for them. They’re all going to __**die**__! __**You’re**__ going to die!” the voice didn’t sound like Pennywise, but he knew it was. He couldn’t comprehend __**what**__ he was hearing, but he was only human. These noises weren’t meant for his feeble brain. “Watch me kill them all!”_

_Pinwheeling his arms, desperate to get back to his body, Richie shut his eyes when one of the spider’s legs pierced through Eddie. Everything began moving in normal speed, like a film reel, with a horrific circus tune booming from above._

“_**NO**__!” he roared. The monster didn’t listen. It flung Eddie’s body away like a rag doll. Bill screamed and ran forward, but It ripped off his head. His body fell to his knees, jerking violently. Beverly screamed, and Ben attempted to shield her, but the monster grabbed him next. His body was torn in half, blood spraying over Beverly and Mike. “Not them, you fucker! Fuck you, bitch! Fuck you!” Despite his cries, Pennywise continued to pick off each of his friends like flies._

_Richie was closer to his body, but there was little he could do. Mike was crushed under one of the spider’s legs, and Beverly was impaled through the chest. Her body slid down the talon, and Pennywise laughed. His friends were all dead, and Pennywise came for him next._

_Instead of flinching in fear, Richie stared at Eddie’s lifeless body. His eyes were open and unseeing. Maybe Richie didn’t need to breathe in this state, but he couldn’t anyways. His chest was too tight; he forgot how to _ _ **exist**__. He didn’t _ _ **want** _ _ to exist in a world where Eddie was dead._

“_I can’t help you kill It,” a voice said. This one was different from Pennywise. This one belonged to something familiar... something Richie had seen before. It sounded warm, and reminded him of a kindly old man. “I’ve helped as much as I can. You need __**everyone**__, but you don’t need me.” Looking around, Richie saw the face of a turtle in the jagged walls of It’s lair._

Seeing Richie caught in the deadlights, Eddie panicked. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed the spear, summoning every last ounce of courage he could muster. Sprinting past his friends, a surge of excitement shot through his body. He could _run_; he always wanted to, if only his mother would let him.

“Look at me now, Ma!” Eddie screamed, hurling the spear straight into the deadlights. Pennywise shrieked, dropping Richie. Holding out his arms, Eddie fell with Richie. Cradling his cheek, he shook him carefully. “Richie? Richie, are you okay?” Richie’s eyes were wide with fear. He was paralyzed. He knew what came next, but he couldn’t make his body move.

The fucking clown was right. He couldn’t save Eddie.

Gripping Eddie’s forearm tight, Richie pushed himself to regain feeling of his extremities. There wasn’t any _time_.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak at the same time Richie attempted to scream. Death was coming. Death was-

“MOVE IT!”

Both Eddie and Richie were shoved from the spot. Pennywise roared, the noise reverberating off the walls as they fell down a tunnel. Ben grabbed Richie by the collar, dragging him to safety. Mike did the same for Eddie. Once they were deep in the hole, Richie looked around. First, he saw Eddie, alive and intact. Sighing, his shoulders slumped in relief. Bill stood behind him, with Ben and Beverly. Mike was with Eddie, and beside him stood someone else.

Someone Richie believed to be dead.

“Stan!” he gasped, scrambling to his feet. Running over, he wrapped his arms around Stan as tightly as he could. “H- what are- How-” Stan pulled away, offering a small smile. Richie looked him over, afraid it might be a trick. His shirt was ripped at the shoulder, and blood stained the fabric from where Pennywise struck him.

That was almost Eddie, and it was almost fatal.

“I don’t have time- _we_ don’t have time, but I’m here to help. I know we can beat this thing,” Stan said. He brushed his hair back, and Richie noticed two long scars running along his forearms. They looked as old as the scars on their hands. “I saw into the deadlights, when we were kids.” He exchanged a nervous glance with Richie, and immediately, he remembered the blood on Stan’s face. He remembered how the monster almost ate him. “I know how to kill it-”

“We have to make it small. We have to believe we can beat it!” Eddie said earnestly, knowing he was right. Stan nodded, but his lips were pressed in a thin, tight line.

“That’s not all. At least two of us have to be in the deadlights. I don’t know what we do in there, but as long as we fight it on all fronts, we can do this. Kill the physical form, _and_...” Stan’s voice trailed off. None of them knew what exactly the deadlights were. All they knew was that It came from somewhere else. It wasn’t of this world.

Placing a hand on Stan’s shoulder, Mike gave him a squeeze.

“We can fight It. We can win,” he said. They held hands, and Richie and Eddie copied, holding out their free hands to complete the circle. The losers stood as they did twenty-seven years ago.

“We can win,” they all said.

Outside, Pennywise roared again. The walls trembled, and rock fell from above.

Ben squeezed Richie’s hand tight, and their eyes locked. Richie knew exactly what he was thinking, and he nodded. Tearing away from the group, they ran out.

“Fight it! Don’t you dare stop, no matter what happens!” Ben shouted. The other five ran behind them, but Ben and Richie were caught in the deadlights as soon as they were in the monster’s sight. They began floating, and although Beverly hesitated, wanting to keep her friends safe on the ground, she shook her head and followed the others.

_Floating in the air, Richie realized he wasn’t disconnected from his body this time. Looking over at Ben, he nodded to him. They could do this. They only had to believe._

_Below them, their friends were screaming. The shouts were mostly incoherent, but Richie saw Pennywise stagger back. His shape-shifting went haywire; he took the form of the werewolf, then the mummy, the leper, Georgie, and finally Bev’s father. Above, level with Richie and Ben, the deadlights swirled. Richie could hear the screams of thousands. Maybe millions. Every lost soul which Pennywise consumed._

“_When we beat you,” Richie snarled, reaching out to take Ben’s hand, “every last spirit in that filthy mouth of yours, gets set free. That’s how it works!” The lights flickered, and Richie focused on the screams. He could free them. They all could._

Pennywise shrunk to the size of a baby. His bloated stomach pulsed, and Mike reached down fearlessly. Although the clown tried to snarl and bite, the losers couldn’t be hurt. Not anymore. A loud, wet snap echoed through the cave as Mike ripped the heart out. Behind them, Richie and Ben fell. Beverly and Eddie hesitated, not wanting to leave Mike. He nodded to them, and they bolted to the others.

Neither Ben nor Richie moved.

“Why aren’t they waking up? How did I wake up after you got me out of those lights?” Beverly cried, holding Ben’s head in her arms. Eddie racked his brains, trying to remember. He didn’t think he’d know, but then it came to him, clear as day. Holding Richie’s face in his hands, he kissed him hard. The kiss lingered, and with it, Eddie reminded Richie of their promise.

They weren’t allowed to die down here.

Gasping, Richie’s eyes shot open. He panicked, searching around to see where he was. His heart slammed in his chest, but he managed to smile upon seeing Eddie. Touching his face, he chuckled. He counted seven heads. Living. Connected to their bodies. Not illusions.

“Did we win? How long have I been out?” he asked. Eddie brushed Richie’s wet hair back. Leaning down to kiss his forehead, he laughed. “What?”

“Nothing. Just, you were gone so long, I had no choice but to fuck your mom,” Eddie teased. Richie’s smile dropped instantly. His smile curled into a pout, but he didn’t have time to respond. His lips parted, but Mike called out to them.

“Guys, we have to finish this!” he cried. Helping Richie to his feet, they returned to the others, followed closely by Bev and Ben. Each of them put a hand in, clutching the blackened, beating heart in Mike’s palm. Eddie grimaced at how it squelched between his fingers, warm and sticky.

Pulling their hands off, Mike held the pulp carefully. Crossing the platform they stood on, he picked up the stolen artifact. Throwing the remains inside, he lit a match from his pocket and set everything ablaze. This time, the artifact caught fire as well, melting around the heart. The ground rumbled, and pieces of the cave began falling, hitting the floor with a loud crash. Alarmed, Mike turned to them and motioned towards the exit Ben found.

“We gotta go!” he shouted, ushering everyone out. Eddie led them as he did the first time; Richie paused only once, recalling this same sight, but as children. They lived through this before. Shaking his head, he followed them out of the sewers. Everything around them quaked, the earth groaning and protesting as it peeled away.

Eddie helped everyone out of the well, and the group raced through the house. Behind them, the basement caved in. Everything was disappearing into the darkness below, following close on their heels. Stan leaped off the porch, staggering as he barely made it past the gate. Ben and Beverly held on to each other, and Mike yanked Bill forward to safety. Looking over his shoulder, Richie saw Eddie slow down, holding his side.

“EDDIE!” he screamed, grabbing him. Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie and dragged him across the lawn. He felt the ground give beneath him, and he threw Eddie onto the street with all the strength he could summon. Jumping, he landed hard beside him. Groaning, he rolled onto his back. Eddie turned to face him, catching his breath. The other losers stood around them, watching the Neibolt house sink. Eddie scooted closer to Richie, kissing his cheek. “I already told you, Kaspbrak. I’m not losing you again.”

Stan and Mike helped them to their feet, and the group — self-established as the lucky seven — stared at the graveyard they made for Pennywise. Perhaps it didn’t even belong to the clown. Underneath the rubble lied Beverly’s father. Eddie’s mother and the chains she used to tie him to the leper. Bill’s guilt, but not his precious baby brother. Stan’s inhibitions. Mike’s muddied past, and the lies that haunted him. Ben’s loneliness. Richie’s fear of himself. They were stronger than anything they were afraid of, and they knew it now.

The sun shone brilliantly overhead, heating their cold, damp skin. Bill, the first to tear his gaze off of the destruction, began walking down the empty road.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Stan called out. Bill turned to flash a smile at them.

“Where else? The quarry!” he said. The losers watched after him as he limped away. Exchanging glances, one by one, the group began to follow.


	5. Chapter 5

Bev stepped closer to the edge before any of them. The quarry changed with the losers; the underbrush and moss were larger and more widely spread, Richie’s hairline receded and Mike shot up to six feet.

When Beverly jumped off the cliff, she eyed the perfectly green water below her. As soon as her feet broke the surface, the still reflection shattered like glass. Ben and Bill followed after her, then Stan and Mike, and finally Richie and Eddie. The ripples cascaded over each other in small waves.

“Oh, Bill, right in my eye!” Beverly protested, laughing when he splashed her. She dunked his head underwater, swimming away as quickly as she could. Ben popped up in front of her, and she squealed, laughing as he pulled her further from the group. Richie watched them disappear underwater, and suddenly had an idea.

“Hey, Eds,” he whispered, beckoning him over. Eddie swam closer, reaching up to wipe Richie’s glasses. Looking down, he grinned when they fell off, plopping into the water. “Help me look for them?” He couldn’t see if Eddie nodded, but he sank down anyways. Feeling around for the glasses, he almost instantly forgot about them. Reaching out, he felt Eddie’s face. At the same time, Eddie was lifting Richie’s lost glasses, replacing them carefully.

Both of them leaned in at the same time. Their lips met, and they came back up for air. Richie held Eddie carefully, minding the wound on his cheek. He was going to heal from it. All of them would.

Breaking away from Eddie, he pulled him close. Eddie’s head rested in the crook of Richie’s neck, and their fingers tangled together as they stared out at their friends. Stan and Mike were laughing; Stan wrung out his shirt, and Richie tapped Eddie’s arm to point him out. His chest was more hairy than he expected it to get.

“You’re really gonna point out hot guys to me?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to see if you’ll still love me when you know what else is out the- wait, hot?” Richie pouted, and Eddie couldn’t help but giggle. Dunking his head underwater, Richie joined him, bubbles floating from his mouth as he laughed. Eddie’s expression was adorable. He was always so _cute_. Once again, he grabbed Eddie’s face to kiss him.

When they came up, the rest of the losers were sitting on the rocks, just obscured from view. Swimming over, Richie and Eddie caught the tail end of what Stan was saying. He lied their wet clothes over the branches, shaking the drippy ends.

“-forgot as soon as I was with you guys again, but it all came flooding back when I... well.” Clearing his throat, Stan held up his wrists. Mike frowned first, reaching out to touch.

“There’s nothing there.”

Stan’s eyes widened, and he brushed his fingertips along the smooth skin. As if reading each other’s minds, all of them checked their palms for the scar. For twenty-seven years, there was no sign of it. Every last one of the losers forgot their pact. Now, again, the scar vanished.

“You think this means it’s over?” Ben asked. Richie tightened his hold around Eddie’s waist protectively. Instinctively.

“I remember everything. Nothing’s faded at all,” Beverly said. Nodding in agreement, Ben and Richie exchanged glances before looking to Stan. While Bev, Stan, and Richie saw how the others died, only Ben, Richie, and Mike saw exactly _why_ they survived. Every piece had to fit exactly right, but they needed help pushing the puzzle together. Whatever It was, there existed another force to counter the evil. Turning dark to light meant more than they realized. “I still don’t understand... How are you alive, Stan? Your wife- I spoke to her.” Bev shook her head, her brow furrowed as she concentrated on the ground.

“I don’t know. I woke up and the scars were there, but everything else? Normal. My wife was still planning a vacation, my parents were sleeping on the other side of Georgia. I had a big reset button pushed,” Stan said. He didn’t seem to understand it himself, and Richie stood up. Ben and Mike had pensive expressions, and Richie hoped they would have the words he most certainly wouldn’t.

“It was It,” he began. Stan’s brow rose, and Richie shut his eyes. This wasn’t how he wanted to start an explanation at all. “I mean- something _like_ It-”

“There’s _more_?” Eddie squawked, his breath catching in his throat. He choked, and the otherwise silent morning was filled with his coughing fit. Richie rubbed his back, waiting for him to breathe before continuing.

“I saw something in the deadlights. It looked like a turtle,” he said. Ben bit the inside of his cheek, but raised his hand.

“I saw that too.”

Mike copied him, mumbling, “Me too. When I first saw the arrival of It. I thought... you _all_ would see it.” Beverly, Bill, and Eddie shook their heads, confusion clear on their faces.

“I don’t know what that thing was, but it told me that everyone needed to be in those sewers if we were gonna kill that fucking clown,” he explained, reaching out to hold Stan’s arm, “and I guess that meant bringing you back.” None of them spoke for several seconds as they absorbed the information.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Bill mumbled. Mike snorted, yanking his damp shirt from the rocks and tugging it back on.

“We just bullied a clown demon to death.”

Again, silence settled over them.

Stan was the first to start laughing. Richie and Eddie copied his example, and then all of them were howling. It reminded Eddie of the days he laughed so hard, he needed his inhaler. Moments like those made him happier than he thought he could be. He remembered how much courage his friends built up in him over that summer; he jumped in front of all of them to take on Bowers and his entire gang. They unlocked a courage that would've otherwise been dormant his whole life.

“You wanna know the real kick in the nuts about all of this?” Richie asked. The losers looked at him, half of them expectant, the rest knowing he was going to say something perfectly stupid. “None of us were right about God. It’s a fucking inter-dimensional space turtle. I don’t know shit about Scientology, but I think they got the closest.” Beverly snickered, rolling her eyes.

“No, Rich. The kicker is that you couldn’t possibly work this into your routine. That may be the funniest thing I’ve heard you say,” she teased. Eddie’s eyes lit up, and he squeezed her forearm gently.

“He doesn’t even write his own material, remember?”

Again, all of them were in stitches. Richie hooked his arm around Eddie’s neck, digging his knuckles into his skull. Eddie tried to push him away, but they ended up falling back into the water. Their shouts and cackles were all that could be heard in the mile-long stretch of woods. Much like the days of their childhood, they were the only ones who existed, and they were so much safer that way. As long as they had each other, everything would be okay.

Gradually, the sun moved overhead. Then midday turned into evening. Much like they did as children, the losers wasted their time lounging in the water and playing. Killing the clown had been their goal, but the real closure came here: ending the summer as they started it. Together.

“You better stay in touch this time,” Bill said sternly, a small smile on his face as he squeezed Richie's shoulder.

One by one, the losers left the quarry.

Bev and Ben walked away first, the opposite of how they disbanded the first time. She was the second last to go, and she waited for Bill. This time felt right. Stan followed soon after. Finally, Mike and Bill stood, stretching their old bones and walking a few feet before looking back to Richie and Eddie. The sun began setting, a reflection of colors glistening on the water.

“Are you kidding? Now that I know I have a rich friend, I'm hitting you up all the time for cash,” Richie joked.

“Beep beep, Richie,” Mike snickered, ruffling Richie's hair. He almost made a hair loss joke, but thought better of it. After a few minutes, the two were out of sight, and Richie was alone with Eddie. Returning to his side, Richie hugged his knees to his chest, watching the occasional fish leave a ripple in the lake.

“We really should get you to a hospital. Get you checked out,” he said, reaching to touch the damp bandage taped over Eddie's cheek. Grinning, Eddie shrugged, leaning back to soak up the last of the sun. Their clothes were all dry by now, but he left his shirt off. Bruises were forming along his arms and ribs; Richie could only imagine what _his_ body looked like. Truthfully though, it didn't matter. They were alive.

“You know it's funny,” Eddie sighed, placing his cut cheek on Richie's shoulder before immediately pulling back. “I don't feel that much pain. I feel better than I've felt my whole life.” Looking at Richie, he flashed a smile. His teeth were the same brilliant white as when they were kids. “Is this what it's like to be a completely healthy man?” Chuckling, Richie shrugged.

“I don't think I've been a healthy man my whole life. You saw how I ate, growing up,” he teased. Eddie rolled his eyes, leaning over to kiss him. Biting his lip, Richie glided his tongue over it. However, he broke away before either of them wanted to stop. “Is this gonna be a regular thing, Kaspbrak?” Eddie's brow furrowed. Instead of waiting for him to ask, Richie did what he was never able to do before in his life.

He said exactly what was on his mind.

No jokes.

No smokescreens.

“Richie-”

“I'm serious, Eddie. You know where I stand, I know how you feel...” Richie's throat tightened. He'd been afraid his whole life, but he beat death and had a second chance to get everything right. He couldn't let that go. “Are we really gonna do this? I want you to leave with me. We'll find a place- we can literally go anywhere, Eds. Just go _with me_. And maybe one day, I'll ask you to marry me, and maybe one day, we can talk about getting a dog, or adopting kids, or whatever it is you wanna do. Retire in Hawaii, or Italy, or fucking Guam! Eddie, I can't leave Derry without knowing I did everything I could to make us a reali-”

Richie was great at talking. So great, he made a career off of it – even if the words weren't necessarily his.

Eddie, on the other hand, was great at interrupting Richie.

He kissed Richie hard, pushing him flat on the ground. Neither of them had to say a word; their bodies moved together fluidly. Eddie yanked Richie's shirt open, breaking off one of the buttons. Working on his jeans, he tugged them down to Richie's knees, while he did the same for Eddie.

“We don't have any lube, and I doubt one escapade is gonna stretch you out,” Richie said. Eddie rolled his eyes, sitting up. While Richie lied on his back, staring at the sunset, he thought about how Ben and Bev were staring at each other towards the end of their time together. If they made it back to the inn, they were probably fooling around too. “Eds- ah-!” Richie choked as Eddie lowered his head, his mouth closing around Richie's semi-hard cock.

Staring down at him, Richie watched as he bobbed his head slowly, working his erection until it was completely hard. Biting the inside of his cheek, Richie placed a hand on Eddie's hip, maneuvering him to have easier access to his stiffening cock. He didn't have to reach his neck too far; they were a perfect fit. It was almost as though their bodies were made for each other.

Shaking off the thought, Richie stroked Eddie's cock, his lips tight around the tip. Sucking gently, he watched for Eddie's response. At once, Eddie froze, grunting around Richie's own dick. Lowering his head further, the tip of his nose brushed Richie's messy pubic hair yet again. He couldn't help but buck his hips, shooting Eddie an apologetic glance. Eddie frowned, then thrust into Richie's mouth.

“Eddie, fuck!” Richie gasped, yanking himself away as he gagged. Coughing, he tried to catch his breath.

“Sorry, Richie- oh!” Eddie yelped as Richie pushed his hip down, his cock now standing straight into the air. Sliding his tongue up the length, he slowly took Eddie back into his mouth. He cupped his balls in one hand, gently pressing down with his thumb. Eddie jerked, but moaned loud enough to make the birds overhead fly off. “R- Richie-!” Tangling his fingers in Richie's hair, he tugged on the locks.

Richie's free hand took Eddie's, guiding him back to his cock. Stroking the length, Eddie brushed his lips along the wet skin. Flicking his tongue on Richie's balls, he took one into his mouth. He tensed, his mouth tightening around Eddie's cock as he sucked in a breath.

“Eds...” he groaned, carefully rocking his hips. Not knowing how much longer he could last, he quickened his pace with Eddie. Bobbing his head, he switched between stroking and sucking, his mouth and hands constantly busy. Eddie felt a heat rising in his stomach. Huffing out a breath, he sucked on his finger to lube it, before sliding it into Richie's ass. “Eddie, fuck! Fuck!” Cum splattered on Eddie's good cheek, and oozed down his hand. It slid between his fingers, dripping onto the rock below. Smiling, he licked the pink, pulsing head. “No! No, no- stop...” Richie hissed at first, but he was too weak to keep it up.

“What's wrong?” Eddie asked, quickly moving his mouth away. Letting go of Richie's cock, he propped himself up on his elbows.

“Nothing- you were fucking incredible. It's just... don't touch it right now,” Richie sighed. Catching his breath, he rolled back over to continue sucking Eddie off. He worked up to the same speed he reached before, and again, Eddie felt the tightening in his balls. Richie felt them twitch between his fingertips as Eddie came.

His mouth filled with a liquid not unlike cough syrup. Although his first instinct was to spit it out, Richie instead gulped, swallowing Eddie's cum. Underneath him, Eddie moaned again. He leaned his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he struggled to speak.

“Don't stop, Rich. D-don't stop,” he begged. Suddenly, he understood why Richie needed to push him off. The tip of his cock was infinitely more sensitive now, and sent a slight twinge of pain shooting through his groin. Although Richie didn't like the sensation, Eddie _did_. Watching him in awe, Richie sucked Eddie's cock gently now, easing him out of his erection. His cock soon became soft, limp in Richie's hand.

Spreading his jacket and shirt down across the rocks, Richie held Eddie close. With the sun finally set, millions of stars dotted the sky. The moon was full, large and yellow across the pond. Fireflies lit up here and there, and Richie lazily watched them. His dream of becoming a famous comedian paled in comparison to this dream. For a minute, he thought perhaps he _did_ die in those sewers. If that were the case, heaven wasn't bad at all.

“You know, Richie,” Eddie said, disrupting the silence, “we still have our lives to get back to after this.” Before Richie could protest with any confusion, Eddie kissed him. Lying his head on Richie's chest, he traced circles along his cool skin. “I left my wife, but I still have to divorce her. That means paperwork-”

“I know what a divorce entails, Mr. Kaspbrak,” Richie sighed.

“Yeah, well, then you know it can be a process. I have to separate our bank accounts, split assets – all the boring shit-”

This time, Richie cut Eddie off with a kiss. Running his fingers through Eddie's hair, he smiled. After a few, long moments, Eddie smiled back.

“All of that is a cakewalk compared to losing you. Okay, Eds? I'm never letting you go again. Not unless you tell me to fuck off for good,” Richie promised. Blinking back the tears in his eyes, Eddie's shoulders slumped. Both of them shared the same relief; they weren't going home alone.

As a matter of fact, they were going home _at last_.

* * *

Derry, Maine – a small town full of dreadful history and death – stood over five thousand miles, and nine blissful days behind Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak. After receiving treatment at the hospital in Bangor (respectfully denying any help from the medical center in their hometown), Richie booked the first flight out to Hawaii. He paid for the room indefinitely, knowing they could hide out on an island in peace while all the i's and t's were dotted and crossed on Eddie's divorce papers.

While in Maine, Eddie mailed Myra a postcard. From what Richie saw, he wrote that he left for both of their best interests, and she deserved someone who wanted to love her. He apologized for not being said person, but left no room for arguing. It wasn't anything like how he'd apologize to his mother, and give in to her crocodile tears. This was a definitive ending, leaving nothing but room for his new beginning.

“Shit!” Richie hissed as his phone rang, snapping him from his thoughts. “Hello?” His voice was hushed as he tiptoed across the room, back to the balcony. He slid the glass door shut behind him, tightening the belt of his robe as a breeze blew.

“Richie?” Mike's voice was unforgettable, and he smiled hearing it.

“Mike! Hey, what's up?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just packing the last of my stuff. How's Eddie?” he asked. Richie imagined the knowing smirk on Mike's face, but he smiled too. Peering back into the hotel room, his eyes moved from Eddie's bare calf, to the rise of his tanned ass. The rest of him was hidden by the thick, white comforter.

“He's great. Catching up on some sleep, but I can tell him to call later,” Richie answered. Another breeze whipped his hair back, carrying the scent of flowers and ocean water. “How are you? You said you finished packing?” On the other end, Mike blew out a gust of air.

“Yeah, all done. I don't know if you felt it when you were here, but there's always been a haze over this town. It's gone now, and all the strange shit? Stopped. It's all just _stopped_.” Neither of them spoke. The silence almost unsettled Richie, but knowing Mike was fine on the other end made up for the tension. “I think it's finally over. I can leave with a clear conscience. Speaking of-”

Richie heard the rustling of papers on Mike's line.

“You still in that library, Hanlon?” he teased. After a moment of more crumpling, Mike laughed.

“I wanted to thank you, asshole.”

His mouth twisting, Richie tried to play dumb as he questioned, “For what?”

“You know what. You weren't the only one to leave a check either. Bill, Ben, Stan- all of you left something for me. You didn't have to do that,” Mike said. His tone was gentle; he wasn't too proud to take the money, nor did he feel the obligation to pay them back. None of them wanted that. As far as they were concerned, he earned it just as much as they had. Now was his time to reap the benefits.

“Of course we did, Mikey. Spruce up those headstones for your parents, and send me some oranges when you make it out to Florida,” Richie demanded. He half-heartedly put on a Voice, but decided he was speaking simply as Richie. This was him telling his best friend to be happy. “You better visit us soon. Or as quick as we can get a house. This market is something else.”

“Do you even know how to shop for a house?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Both of them laughed, and Richie stole a peek over his shoulder to check if Eddie had woken up. He stirred slightly, but remained underneath the blankets.

“Oh, did you get Stan's letter yet?” Mike asked. Once again, Richie could hear rustling noises. He heard the creak of Mike's car door, and the grunt he let out as he sat down.

“Letter?”

“You'll know when you get it. Stan should be calling soon; he's more embarrassed that it exists than anything. He went through all that trouble, just to live in the end,” Mike joked. Rolling his eyes, Richie walked back into the room. His and Eddie's mail was being forwarded to the hotel, and he saw a small pile at the door. “I'm heading out now. I'll call when I make it to Miami.”

“Drive careful, okay? I love you, Mikey,” Richie said.

He could hear the smile in Mike's voice when he responded, “I love you too. You and Eddie both. All of you, really. Bye Richie.” The line disconnected, and Richie thumbed through the stack of envelopes in his hand.

Only two of the letters matched, and both were from Stanley Uris.

Leaving Eddie's on the desk beside the mini bar, Richie tore open his envelope. There was only a single page, written neatly in true Stan the Man fashion. The corner of his mouth tugged up, and he read through the letter, curious of what Stan wanted his dying words to be.

Each sentence hit harder than the last, and Richie didn't realize he teared up until a droplet hit the paper. Yet again, he thought of Stan's bar mitzvah, and how he went completely off script to the surprise of everyone in attendance. Stan was great with speeches. It didn't surprise Richie that the letter said everything he needed to hear.

“Be proud,” he read back to himself, running his thumb over the page. Turning to face Eddie, he watched him sleep. After a few minutes, he folded the letter neatly, taking it to the small mantle on the other end of the suite. There was only one picture set up, framed and unapologetic. Tucking his letter behind it, he beamed down at the image.

He and Eddie stood in front of their initials, exactly where he carved them twenty-seven years ago on the Kissing Bridge. Richie was kissing his cheek, and Eddie was mid-laugh as he took their first selfie together. He needed about seven tries to get it right, but the end result was perfect.

Lucky number seven.

Jumping onto the bed, laughing as Eddie groaned, Richie tugged the blankets away to reveal his face.

“Richie, no! I have morning breath, and my mouth is all dry-”

“Don't care, you owe me some kisses!” Richie nearly sang, pecking his lips along Eddie's temple. Huffing, Eddie rolled over, staring up at the ceiling. His brow furrowed, but he couldn't stay mad. “Are you ready to spend the rest of your life waking up to me, Edward Kaspbrak?” He was dangerously close to using “Tozier.” They hadn't discussed the finer details, but Richie always pictured Eddie taking his name.

“Richard Tozier,” Eddie said, grabbing Richie's face and pulling him down for a kiss. Ripping himself away, Richie pretended to gag.

“Yikes, you're right about that morning breath-”

“Richie!”

Eddie swung a pillow at him, knocking his glasses off. Richie plopped onto the bed, rolling his eyes back and sticking out his tongue. Draping himself over Richie, Eddie kissed up his chest, along his neck and jaw, finally placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Are you sure you're ready to spend your life waking up to this awful morning breath?” he teased. Richie rubbed his chin, as if he needed to think. His mind wandered briefly to the engagement ring he bought in Bangor, while Eddie was being treated at the hospital. One of these days – mostly likely a day or two after his divorce was final – Richie would pop the question. All their friends would come to the wedding and he'd get his happily ever after.

“Eddie, my love,” he said, kissing him again, “I think I speak for all of us in the Losers Club when I say: I'm ready for the rest of my life to start right now.”

And were any of the other losers present, they most certainly would've agreed. But Richie knew that well enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I had so much fun writing this; it was so satisfying to complete the story how it should've gone, and I hope you enjoyed it too!


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